Unlock Me: a beautiful disaster
by Redband-Studios
Summary: It was there Shizuo Heiwajima had the resolve of his hate for a certain informant stolen away from him. '...a sort of dull ache weighed his body down, dragging his legs down with him as he slumped towards the stones that seemed to engrave mercilessly the very words into the backs of his eyes. 'ORIHARA….ORIHARA…ORIHARA….'. There were at least sixteen of them.
1. 1: The Cherry Blossom Ave

It's never a sight one's eye could ever be wonted to; the resonant silence that seemed to keen a grey melancholy into your soul under the draping pink of blossoms, that bestowed the ground with rivers of sallow petals like a million wings of dead fireflies.

A beautiful quietus.

Silent malaise.

Death was rhapsodised in every engraving in the gelid stones that seemed to stand out like thousands upon thousands of thistles in such an Eden. The blond couldn't quite put his hand on whether he felt swamped with sorrow or washed in the peace he had desired so direly, till he saw it with his very own eyes.

True peace only lay with the dead.

The young man brushed away his shame, placing a hand to his temple as if it could kneed the relentless tire out of his brain. Head hung low as if in apology to his ignorance, he stalked down the cemetery- eyes cast down on the floor as if too heavy to lift up. He wound his way groggily to the centre of crossing pathways as he dared to gazed up into the sky, blue seeming immortal. Sempiternal.

Where he would usually find comfort into the way clouds seemed to cascade over the stretch of blue, it felt as though it mocked his mortalness. A grimace pursed his lips into a thin line. _After all, monsters die too._

Shizuo Heiwajima cast his eye on the canopy of trees, emerald palms condensing the golden rays as it came down in silver kisses across the gravestones, till they trailed down the bamboo sticks down to where the mess or footprints lay.

The man let out a silent curse.

He was already in a foul mood from work, the berating of excuses- one after the other in order to push away the weight of shame off them- quite like a certain insect Shizuo knew all too well. Except he doubted that that particular insect had ever discerned shame or humanity. The pure reminiscence of the sharp, disgusting smirk of intoxicating lips made his face crease into a scowl.

 _People never have any respect these days._

Why Shizuo had even ended up at the cemetery after work seemed long forgotten as he stormed over the trails of feet, looming over, with what someone with slightly more perception could see, was the crust of dirt off male shoes. Though something about those prints made his glower melt into a frown: it was as if those footprints had stayed there a long time, dust circling around it and the round marks that were quite patently left by knees. _I was wrong._ He cursed his bluntness as he thought about the mere length of time needed in order to leave such markings and, out of guilt, his line of sight dragged across the silt as he peered at the gravestones through the corners of his eyes.

They widened till they became all whites. Abruptly he stood up, scanning across neighbouring stones hastily till his face paled so that all that was visible under the bleached mop was two irises.

 _No._

Like a young child, he rubbed his eyes out of pure disbelief and would have been ashamed of the action if not for the pure shock ridden in the beating of his chest, now seemingly heavy.

 _Why should I care about the flea anyway-_

His frown shadowed a pair of hazel eyes.

 _That insect doesn't deserve any grub's sympathy for all he's worth._

But as if in almost perfect paradox to his train of thoughts, a sort of dull ache weighed his body down, dragging his legs down with him as he slumped towards the stones that seemed to engrave mercilessly the very words into the backs of his eyes.

' _ORIHARA….ORIHARA…ORIHARA….'._

And there were at least sixteen of them.

* * *

Doubt and question gnawed at the lining of Shizuo's very skull as he stormed down the streets of Shinjuku, the tops of high rise buildings engulfed by the dead of night. His fists seemed to swat at the air as if that action alone could rid of the buzzing of unwanted thoughts poking round his head as if his brain was some habitat being poked about by a curios finger- and that habitat was on knife's edge from self-destructing. Unknowest to him, he let out a threatening growl which turned heads, owners scurrying away as they had the fortune to lay their eyes on a bartender suit- the trademark of the fortissimo of Ikebukuro.

What he was conscious of however was the crushing of clay under his fingers as a fist left a neat pothole in the side of an alleyway. The buzzing wouldn't cease.

 _Why did they all share the flea's family name? Were they actually his family? What the hell happened to them? Did they all die at the same time or does that crack house all just burry their folk in the same grounds? Whose footprints marked the graves recently? Who took such great care of the stones?_ The man's eyes softened. _All sixteen of them?_

The informant's home wasn't exactly confidence, due to it being the cynosure of information throughout all of greater Tokyo. In spite of his denial of the _flea's_ calibre, his name was infamous and figure recognised as a master in manipulating information- who had as many clients as he had enemies, his very existence and remnants of his portentous ploys pandemic. The man's brows knotted themselves, his body giving off an aura that even rendered the cicada's silent in the lengthy turn of the last hour. _That damned greedy bastard- isn't one country enough for him? Isn't the whole of Tokyo wanting to tear at his throat enough for the flaunty insect._ Eyes sharp, he swallowed his rage with gritted teeth as he gazed up the rings of endless stairs. If he had known his archenemy's door was so blatantly obvious and conspicuous to the eye, he would have gladly marched over to Shinjuku to pummel the shit out of him. Except in his last attempt to do so, some lowlife thugs were coincidently waiting at the mouth of the stairway.

His grip on the railing constricted around the railing with godly strength, but Shizuo was a man and of peace, and lo he let his hand slip off the railing- leaving the deformed skeleton of a balustrade as he leaped from twist to turn- the cool metal shuddering under his burdensome load.

As he lay the ball of his foot on the door (too impatient to use the handle of course) the flash of pastel colours called a halt in his movement- his mind suddenly balking. If in a clear state of mind, the man would have registered the strange trail as silt and blossom petals, but his body was focused on the objective in front of him as the frame gave way with a quiet shrill- wry frown deepening as he agnized the 'so-called' silt to be the moss residue of incense.

 _Impossible._


	2. 2: A New Type of Lust

_That flea didn't go to the cemetery._ A low growl rumbled from deep in his throat as he made his way down the dark corridor, fury blinding the glint of a mahogany frame perched neatly on an oak shelf. _He's too proud to lay his knee's on the dirty ground for other people- whether it means their life or death. He wouldn't of have._ Because it would have denied everything Shizuo knew about the informant for the past eight years. Another growl was near from slipping his lips as he pondered: how much did he really know about him?

Apart from his relationship with Shinra and his odd relationship with his sisters, he realised with furrowed brows that he knew near to nothing about the raven-haired man (except his address of course). The only things Shinra ever mentioned about Izaya was how he was such an amusing man when you get to know him- and much more human than the man himself would like to admit. _Not that anyone would want to get close to the insect in their right mind._ That, of course, made Shinra an anomaly.

A dull ray of a single lamp gilded the opening of the lounge as the blond peered over the glass railing. The room might of well had _flea_ written on it: the fancy lampshades; the expensive book cases; wide panel windows by a mahogany desk in which sat the informants infamous leather chair; space that seemed to ridicule that of a more middle class home.

"Tsk." _Damned flea and his damned money._ He began making his way down the set of stairs as he spotted a figure sprawled messily over the sofa. As he straitened the gap between him and the figure, he stared at the matted figure that stood out from the coherent room, hunched over the sofa in disbelief so that the lithe frame was right under his nose.

There were three things that disturbed the blond greatly.

The first being that indeed, more incense* and petal of silky rouge littered the carpeted floor beneath his feet- the trail still fresh as though purposely pointing to Shizuo that the silt had only gathered their recently. However, he was distracted by other facts.

It should of occurred to the blond that someone as rich as the informant would have benefit to a variety of fine clothes, but somehow picturing the insect other than in his trademark jacket seem ludicrous and as concerning as how much skin was actually showing on his nimble legs- the fine silk of the shorts and shirt boasting his slender yet lean shape.

And there lay his biggest and most foreboding concern: if the image of the raven-haired sleeping in front of his enemy wasn't inane enough, how was anyone allowed to look so humane and vulnerable sleeping, and of all people- _that flea._ His bloodlust seemed to be twisted, perturbed into a new lust that breathed fire down his veins as he gazed at the shadows left on the informant's high cheekbones from the curtain of elegant, curled lashes. _Like a girl's._

It pissed him off how perfect the _flea's_ face was, from his provocatively shaped lips to his handsome yet feminine jaw line. It made an irritant heat itch across every cell in his skin as he drank in the informant's deliciously slim waist thirstily as his lips dried. The way his muscles and bones seemed to jut out- defined by the falling shadows of the dimly lit room- yet body leaving sultry curves in the exact right places. The irritation crawled down his torso to the juncture between his legs as the man let out a breathy moan as he turned, silky hair falling across his brow neatly.

The blond lifted a fist above his shoulder, fire burning his hazel irises, till it came down as a gentle caress to the informant's supple, slender legs. Eyes wide, Shizuo jerked back.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_

It was only then in his right sense did he realise that he had left the back door astray in the corridor, rushing back to grab the wooden frame between his strong fingers (not wanting to be in debt to his archenemy of all people) as he filled the gap in the wall with the door, only to let in fall back into his outstretching arm. With a grumble, he jammed the _damned_ thing into the hollow, before turning sharply on his heels till a thump of a body was felt beneath his feet.

 _Oh shit._ He hurriedly turned from broken door to the spill of hazy light, breath hitching as another thump stilled the already dense air. _Oh shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-_

And then silence.

The fortissimo of Ikebukuro huddled into what protection the dark provided, only to poke his head out at the thought of the informant cracking into laughter as his shaming position as he staggered to his feet. He leaned his back to the wall as he sneaked a view round the corner.

* * *

* incense is commonly used in japan to pay your respects to the dead, as I did every year I went to japan.

Also, if anyone is waiting for 'mature content', that doesn't come up till later into the story. Sorry for the wait but i'm trying my best not to rush too much. 3


	3. 3: Drunk on Flea

As there was no sign of further movement below, Shizuo dared himself to scamper across to the glass balustrade- a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth in disgust in realisation that his actions seemed to mimic a _certain_ insect. As he gazed upon that very body, his eyes widened in surprise before softening as he gazed at the informant, face down and keeled over the arm of the sofa like a strewn shirt over a bedpost- neck dangling and arms flopped over the sides. A tender smile lighting the blonde's face, he nearly hopped his way down the stairs (yet again quite like a certain person he knew all too well) before cutting across the sofa, leaning his weight against the cool of a marble table.

With great care not to disturb the informant's slumber, he shifted his body to the edge of the sofa, wincing as the leather sagged under his weight. He almost bit his lip as the raven-haired man let out a sleepy groan, head landing on the floor with a gentle thump- the angle at his body revealing the skin of the small of his back. The pallor of it seemed to give off a sultry glow, making Shizuo swallow as he absorbed the sight- fingertips tickled with gluttony to just _touch_ the delectable prize- and _God damn it was it soft._ It's silkiness rivalling- no outshining that of a model's, and would easily make any girl jealous at the heaven that Shizuo seemed to be fondling under the base of his coarse thumb. As he mauled the edges of those slender muscles, the body let out an almost erotic shudder- the sight manipulating a torrid sensation to his groin, now feeling suddenly tight.

His hand burned to delve further beneath the fine, silk layer now seeming so frustratingly thick; every inch of his body itched to feel that risibly adorable shudder beneath him-

 _Fuck._ He flinched at the sudden thought, face showing a clear display of mortification at his bodily responses to the sleeping raven-haired man. _What the hell was I thinking?_

Nonetheless, the blond found himself scooping up the weight-modest frame in his monstrous arms and placing his gently on the sofa.

 _Now go._

But his feet failed to obey. It was as if he was star struck with the bare beauty of the creature that left his fingers as he let that silkiness slip from his their tips to the couch- almost jealous of everything that _dared_ touch his flea.

His train of thought, once again, balked- the sudden warmth in his cheeks freezing over.

 _Wait... My flea?_ He shook his head in disbelief. _My...my..._

Yet again, was he distracted by the object of his present lechery. He let a hungry gasp drip from his parched lips as he watched the prize arch his small back, the fall of light defining the hallow above his collarbone- making the material in his trousers groan around his arousal. As if finally succumbing to his animalistic lust, he caged the thin frame with his knees and palms, drunk on the sweet scent of strawberry's, coffee and _Izaya._ Blood pounded in his ears as his face neared the pale glow, his warm breath staining the man's neck as the tip of his nose caressed his jugular before the a flash of carmine met hazel.

Shizuo could have sworn his heart stopped so hard he nearly collapses onto the weight under him.

Out of pure bewilderment, all his body was capable of was bracing from the impact, eyes clenches so tightly he could feel them thrum against their sockets.

But the informant, as always, never failed to astound him.

Shizuo felt a hand greet his face in a panicked smite, eyes gazing at the pallid face through his now turned face as a ludicrously high-pitched scream left the informants cherry lips. Blinking away any dubiety, the blond let a low, mellow laughter come from deep in his chest- rubbing away mused tears as the pale cheeks failed to stifle a slight flush that accented those alluring crimson irises. As if the image of the sleeping informant wasn't serene enough, the customarily pathological man who wore his mask of bravura like a medal rendered silent was celestial.

However, the blonde's joy was short lived.

"Now what is Shizu-chan trying to achieve trying to molest his archenemy in his sleep", the words slipped off the wry smile smooth as honey, each syllable dripping with venom that seemed to intoxicate Shizuo's ears. "Ever the unpredictable brute I see."

Before the blond even had time to open his mouth, the informant let out another chirp of mirth.

"I understand being the protozoan you are, you single nucleic brain can handle nothing but instinct, but if this is a confession, doesn't that single cell in that empty head of yours register that this is not an effective way to woo you interest," his eyes narrowed to red slits which should have signalled danger to the fortissimo of Ikebukuro, but that danger now seemed all the more tempting. "Unless this is a display of sexual deprivation- you can sort out your own _problems_ using other methods other than molesting me."

A familiar fury burned on the surface of his skin, but Shizuo's voice was slick with crave to hear the _damned flea_ scream in ways he would have never of thought the skinny frame could make. "Are you telling me to goddam masturbate you shrewd fleabag."

More laughter. The informant's purposely seductive voice went straight to his groin. "Not as shrewd as that monsterou _thing_ rubbing against my leg, unless..." hooded eyes gazed up from the blinds of thick lashes as his lowered his voice to a low purr "that's how Shizu-chan want's to see me..."

* * *

The informant soon regretted his words as a hungry gaze attacked every crevice of his body, his blood running dry as his numbing limbs that failed to obey him.

This scene was much to familiar for the man's comfort and he could feel his seemingly imperishable mask begin to ever so slowly crumble.

 _Run._

But his limbs seemed suddenly heavy as hazel eyes glazed over with greed.

 _Move._

But all he could do was stare, feeling the ice he had froze over his eyes for the past ten years thaw, mind wavering.

 _Escape._

He bit his lip.

* * *

Shizuo enjoyed the way the raven-haired man shivered involuntarily under him, eyes for the first time showing honest emotions: fear.

Raw terror. Pupils dilating till only a thin line of crimson remained in the informant's eye as a hand was placed on the silk above his belly, trailing down. An unintelligible whimper left those _annoyingly_ voluptuous lips; the blond flashed a malicious grin.

"Your unusually quiet _flea,"_ his hand halted latched onto the rim of black pants, "you always had so much to say..."

"S...ph...s...it..." The informants breathing got heavier, lower lips quivering- making the blond incline his head so their foreheads brushed each other. The image of the habitually flamboyant man trembling at the slight friction marked every cavity in his brain.

"Sorry", the blonde's words were oozing with cyanide- _since when had the two swapped places?_ "I can't quite hear you. Your gonna have to speak louder for my _beastly_ ears."

Grumbling, Shizuo leaned in further as his words took no effect on the distant gaze, irritant at the expression wrought on the informant's face as if he was looking at some other beast rather than Ikebukuro's monster. He then jerked up, giving enough room for the man to slide clumsily through his limbs as the words echoed across his ear drums, pelting down his spine.

" _Stop it..."_ But it was the following words that ensnared his attention.

 _"Please Shizuo..."_


	4. 4: Wearing Thin

Shizuo, bangs veiling the guilt in his eyes, watched as the informant strained a shaky smile upon his face- but all animosity was lost into the supressed shudders of his now sallow body. He watched the tallow-faced raven brush a few comely locks from his cold, now sweat-stained brow with a woozy hand- translucent skin only emphasizing how much bone actually showed through to its surface.

 _Does the flea not eat?_ The normal Fortissimo of Ikebukuro would have questioned why he bothered to care for someone lowly as the informant, but he had a feeling he had crossed a line that made him even lower. He had molested a person is there sleep: even Izaya himself was not that daring, nor would go to such extent to fan the fire in his petty games. Though both guilt and chagrin thrummed from deep in his ribs, ire scratched at his brain that his arch enemy -that Orihara Izaya- would let his guard down at such a simple act. Of course he knew the damned insect was human, but accustomed to that smirk and the raven's slick words- almost gave off the notion that he was a god- unbreakable and the one who looks over the crowd*. _He's not allowed to brake that easily..._ But who was Shizuo to judge?

He felt pain sheer under his eye as he swatted slim fingers away, a disturbing chitter filling the air- but it was not the ear-aching pitch of the laugh that made him flinch- but the bare hollowness of it. Not like his usual laugh filled with malice and ploy. "Shizu-chan is too kind, letting his _prey_ flee so easily..." A pair of carmine flickered. "Maybe he really doesn't hate me at all."

 _No._ But the blonde's pride shunned his inner voice. "God damn _it,_ you was fucking trembling like a bloody leaf. Flea's aren't supposed to be like that- they're supposed to hop around like the annoying things they are."

"If you didn't notice Shizu-chan, I am quite human", elegant hands guested at his body, "unlike you."

 _I want it._ The blond furrowed his brows, almost leering at the exposed hip bone from under rumpled clothes. _I want it all._ Though he was prideful, Shizuo didn't lie to himself, no- that was too alike someone he knew. "I don't know about y-" He paused, eyes softening. "Izaya", the informant's eyes widened momentarily as if in shock by someone calling him with no honorifics or _flea;_ he describe the feeling as bare, even naked. "What's that scar on you left hip?"

On someone else, it looked just like another scar, but on that beauteous body, it looked like a blotch on the finest apple or a smudge on a prized painting. He watched the figure manoeuvre files that he did not notice were right by his feet to the desk, realising just how distracted he was with the insect. Letting out a heavy sigh as all he received was silence, he pushed away his ulterior goal (the reason why he stormed to Shinjuku our of pure anger rather than taking public transport in the first place) and slowly stood up, halting as he felt a cool air tickled his back.

"Who said you could leave, beast?"

The blond met the hostile scowl with a confused one, making the raven roll his eyes.

"You break into someone's house, molest them and threaten them and you expect to get up and leave like nothing happened? and of all people your archenemy?" Pale arms threw themselves up in the air as the whisper of a knife unsheathing sounded in his ears. "If I need to spell it out for you and your protozoan brain- there is something called manners and simple virtue."

Shizuo let out a loud snort that seemed to echo across the too-spacious room. _Doesn't he get lonely living alone with so much emptiness?_ "Don't tell me you practice such things _flea._ "

The informant put a hand to his chest while pouting. "Is it really that hard for Shizu-chan to believe? Aw, you wound me."

Deciding to ignore insect's jeering (another thing an unchanged Heiwajima Shizuo would not do) he pointed to the man's still revealed hip, face placid as he tried to ignore its sultry shape. "You didn't answer my question, Izaya."

Face slipping an expression of incredulity for a mere heartbeat, the raven pulled his shirt down almost violently as his eyes glazed over thickly, piercing and unrevealing. The blond could feel himself shudder under the intensity of the glower that grazed over every spec of his body with disgust as if a stubborn stain in the wall that just wouldn't erase itself no matter how hard you tried. But that wasn't what concerned the ex-bartender the most, he caught the flash of another faint line running down his back between his shoulder blades of the loose material- shocked as the informant himself as he wrapped his fingers on the rim of the silk and yanked it up as he gazed at a camouflage of both faded and fresh lines covering that delectable treat beneath. He didn't even notice his arm dropping when slapped away, owner flushed and squealing, almost drowning on the guilt that they had been from _his_ fights with the insect.

As if reading him perfectly, the informant for the second time that night rolled his eyes, ushering Shizuo's sudden dilemma with a brisk hand. "They're not from fight's with you if that's what Shizu-chan is _so_ worried about", a strange flicker crossed his eyes and the blond did not fail to see it, "they're knife wounds."

"Who did this to you?"

As if surprised that the ex-bartender would ever cross that question, the informant opened his mouth only to shut it again till he turned a shoulder, eyes nearly black in the collapsing shadows. "I don't even know if that man exists anymore." His voice seemed stoic; polar opposites with the flamboyant insect who had no problem in admitting his influential flaws, _no,_ even going as far to admire them with his twisted theory of love.

Frown reaching his brows, the blond made to speak before letting out an ecstatic groan that made the raven jump before flashing a smile of amusement and disapproval. "What the hell is that monstrosity?"

The blond gave another growl at his manhood being insulted. "Just because I don't sport that girly bo-" Another groan through gritted teeth had the flea laughing with a twisted mirth, but it was clear he was hiding something behind that smile. As the debt collector reached to his belt, the informant shot him another glare before turning his back again. "If you're going to relieve yourself of that disgusting thing, do it out of my sight." He hinted, pointing at the what the blond presumed was the bathroom.

"You're a man as well, so don't tell me you've never had one of these things rando-"

"Random? Random?" The man's face looked borderline hysteric, voice shaking with laughter and eyes white. "I think we both know where, no _why_ that thing _popped-up._ So don't you dare call that random."

Brushing away his shame, Shizuo examined the display of such human emotion that he thought for a second that his eyes had again betrayed him, but as far as he was concerned, it was Orihara Izaya, the talented informant of Shinjuku standing before him. He scanned the shaking fingers to the his knees, snapped together tightly. _Since when was that flea so easy to read?_ "Have you had a bad experience with a male before?"

He thought he heard the informant choke, eyes going wider than they should have humanly been able to before he gathered at the shattered remnants of the mask, unintelligible words spilling from his lips. The strained look in his eyes as he grinned in defiance tugged at something inside the blond. "Since when were you so perceptive? Since when did we switch places? In my sleep?"

Voice balking at the confession the informant just made, he stumbled back, landing ungracefully on the floor with a painful thump. Before Shizuo had the chance to help the miserable creature up, he watched a hand swat his own away, nose lifted with some twisted pride that burned in his glistening eyes. "You never answered my question Shizu-chan?" He spoke out each syllable as if the mere prospect of talking made him distraught.

The debt collector looked at the painfully stubborn man in front of him and his unusually rigid posture, legs shut, shoulder hunched over and fingers clenching in on themselves only to make the shaking worse. _I can't._ He realised, smile sad. _I'm not that cruel._ "I just came, cause I felt like it."

Not giving the dark haired man a second time to speak, the man pulled the skinny figure into him, the body freezing as a pair of strong arms caged him in. Trying to ignore the way the informant's belly rubbed against his arousal, the blond tightened his grip as he felt the convulsions erupt in his tiny body- voice beseeching but hoarse as they were muffled against Shizuo's shoulder.

"Let me go, please."

But the way he shook as he tightened his grip more... "I can't." He hummed soothingly. _I'm not that kind._

Again, as if reading every loud thunder beneath his lungs, the silky-haired man laughed into the ex-bartender's clothes as a course hand knotted itself in his jet hair. "You're really merciless aren't you, Shizuo?"

 _Shizuo._ It made him smile.

But like most joys in the world, that smile was short-lived.

* * *

*Izaya is the Japanese variable for the biblical name Isaiah, meaning God's eyes or the one who looks over the crowd. Though the kanji of his name was spelt as a normal Japanese name (which I can't quite remember what it was) his parents insisted on having his name pronounced as the variation of that name. All canon stuff there.


	5. 5: Truth

Grip slipping momentarily, the blond hissed as nails clawed against his skin with abnormal strength he didn't know the insect contained within him, nearly groaning at the absence of friction against his wanting body. As he gazed upon the flea's face lustfully, he regretted his actions immediately.

Izaya or not disgusting Izaya, no one disserved to look that scared.

The blond couldn't quite put it into words: ragged breathing reputing from his lips in increasingly loud hollers; body collapsing into a quivering disarray as if the spasms rooted from deep in his marrow; gaze distant- pleaing- so painfully powerless. It was like the look people gave him when they laid their eyes upon the bartender suit- no, it was worse, far worse. And the blond discerned that he did not want, of all people, the raven to look at him like that; he didn't want the probably only man who was fearless of him to give him the same eyes that made him look a little _too human. Though do I only feel that way because it hurts too much to be the only monster in this hell?_ However, the man was too distracted to concern his own selfish matters as he watched the words slip through the shrieking as he could feel the chamber of his heart constrict till he could feel his own fingers tearing at the cloth over his bosom.

It spilled from those lips in a jumble, taking the debt collector time to piece the words together in his head.

 _"It's all your fault... I don't want this... Stop it... Please... Anything, but that. I'll do anything... Just not that again... "_ Shizuo felt his heart sink as the raven flinched violently at the brush of his fingers, hazel eyes gaping. _"...just do it gently..."_

Shizuo didn't want to admit as much as the informant didn't as he watched carmine fixed between his the ex-bartender's thighs; the sudden ascertaining made his knees feel weak and eyes leaking with self-loathing. But his mind was purely unable to place the over-confident, self-centred bastard with _this._ Two palms covered his restlessness as he raised his voice, nearly biting the words back. The two words he never wanted to say in the flea's face ever again.

"I'm sorry."

And then the silence.

The blond shuffled his weight on his feet awkwardly, one hand lifting up to run the back of his neck. "I shouldn't off done that, flea or not flea." Because that was the truth, but not as nearly insufferable as the truth the man's behaviour depicted.

"I just didn't know that…" He swallowed, words forming a lump in his throat. "…something like that happened…" It didn't take long for the ex-bartender to realise that the reason for lack of response was that the raven was having a panic attack; he extended a cautious arm only to have it swatted away.

Lips pursed, deeply contrasting with his usual demeanour of calamity, he grabbed the arm softly but firmly, pulling the seemingly fragile frame into his arms, carefully avoiding contact with the cause of the problem in the first place. He held the man with such affection as if he were holding a something that would break with the slightest breath at the wrong timing, his nose gently soothing the curve of his jugular.

"I'm sorry." He repeated the words like a raptured mantra. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I'm _so_ sorry…"

He felt shaky arms pull out of his embrace as he gazed into the crippled smile. It occurred to Shizuo: _How can someone remain so graceful- so beguiling- when a wretched mess._

 _A beautiful mess._

"Are you happy now?" The informant's attempt in laughter came out more as a cry. "You finally got what you wanted", flecks of crimson effulged, "you finally broke me Shizu-chan. You beat me to it."

 _No…_ The raven sucked in air through gritted teeth. "I never wanted that."

"So all those times you threw benches, vending machines at me. Since that day you hated me upon first look- remind me, what was that for?"

The blond didn't even realise that he had voiced his thoughts till he watched the wry face still. "Did I really hate you that day when we first met?"

"…." His words threw the raven off, no doubt, but the debt collector never knew for the informant regained his natural poise and teasing tone. "If we are going to start drawing lines of the themes of hate and love and _peace,_ I suggest you give up on it as it is too much for your Neanderthal brain to comprehend." The blond let out a low growl at this statement but the dark-haired man chose to ignore this. "I'd love to brawl with you over our conflicting ideas but unlike the monster you are, humans need sleep. Does that single cell in that empty skull of yours understand at least that?"

"You never answered my question properly: who really gave you those scars?"

"And why did you really come here?" The man scoffed at the sight of a speechless monster. "You don't except me to believe you came here on a whim?"

The blond paused, raising a brow.

The informant let out an over-emphasised suspire. "Whim: an unexplained sudden desire or change of mind, one that tends to conflict one's habitual behaviour. In your case, that of a beast. Beasts aren't supposed to have _whims._ "

The ex-bartender let out another dangerous growl at this remark. "Speak in goddam Japanese, stupid flea."

"What the nerve you have saying stupid after your confession of your own stupidity." Laughter spouted off soft lips for what seemed like hours as the raven put a clenching hand to his belly. Unlike himself, Shizuo smiled: _it almost seemed genuine._

Rolling back his shoulders he didn't even know were hunched, he began making his way out from where he came from, watching a flea roll on his knees- tears of that twisted mirth of his painting his defined cheek-bones. _I don't get what's so funny._

With a shrug of a shoulder, he made his way out the back door, placing the broken frame the right way round this time as he began making is way calmly down the stairs, the want to relief himself in the confinements of his own homes becoming his main priority. He ignored the pain, pausing as the air around him changed. As soon as the sound of the door being placed back echoes off the concrete buildings, the blond could have sworn that the laughter came to an abrupt halt.

But the pain in his groin pushed the sudden thought away as he hobbled his way back to Ikebukuro, thankful for the scarcity of life at hours of darkness in the streets of Tokyo. 


	6. 6 : Tension

An iron fist clamped round the showerhead, leaving a neat indent in its handle. Saturated with icy water, strands of bleach plastered his flushed face, head radiated from every inch of his body- from his furrowed brows to his _agonising_ arousal.

The _stupid thing_ had a minds of its own, and the ex-bartender dared not to masturbate to…. _his_ face; even being the honest person he was, he still had his own pride.

Biting his lip, he traced his hands down his growing shaft, nearly hissing as a blinding white light blared before him. His breath turned haggard as he continued this action, shifting his hands up and down his length, knees bucking slightly under the weight of the pleasure.

But he dared not think of _him._

It was hard, beyond hard as, every surge of exhilaration that shot up his torso had him wondering how soft the flea's palms really were, how it would feel to have that sexy mouth wrapped round the head in a perfect 'o' an-

 _NO._ He felt mortified thinking of the man now, realising why the man appeared in his mind every time he took himself upon such procedures, besides the fact that upon that realisation, the mere thought of that perfect torso under his greedy fingers seemed to milk pre-cum from between his legs. Once, he enjoyed in the sensations that would spread through his body while doing so, but now it only left his shoulders sagging with odium and heart burdensome with self-loathing.

 _It's always better to be honest with yourself nii-san._ As always in his times of despondence, he found the languid yet heart-warming face of his brother materialise before him. _It will always hurt less in the future that ways._

"But…"

Groaning, the blond let the whole of his upper body slump, leaning his forehead against his arm- railed between his face and the tiled wall. Kasuka was right: it never benefited anyone to be stubborn to himself, after all _if you don't know who you are- how will you ever understand anyone else?_ He forced a wry grin through his pursed lips, hands taking up their previous pattern as he let out a quiet shudder.

He couldn't deny it.

He couldn't bring himself to deny that he lusted that lecherous body, so toned, so slender, _so fucking flawless._ As his hands increased their pace, he couldn't deny he _begged_ to hear just what the louses voice _really_ sounded like- would do anything to see that face which sported feminine features twist into pure bliss and pleasure.

"…nng…"

As he pictured those cherry, swollen lips on his own- he could finally feel himself melt, the busting warmth erupting across the bath tub only to be washed away by the cool water.

He twisted the tap to a stop, failing to swallow the lump in his throat.

The man gazed at his hands in disgust, still shaking from the heat and dense air.

He had done it.

He had just masturbated to Orihara Izaya, the most annoying bastard in the whole of Ike- no, the whole of Japan itself. Though he felt shame, where most of his shame rooted from was the flashes of what exactly he had done to the flea, the way he let his monstrous side loose for real. He gritted his teeth just at the memory of the raven's face: that pure fear, not noticing how he left a trail of puddles emulating his figure as he wondered out the bathroom to his pack of cancer sticks.

Then his hand dropped, as if the weight on his heart filched his energy.

He had realised the pestering heat that coursed through his veins every time he saw the man was not hate.

It was love.

And he couldn't deny he wanted Izaya to love him back.

* * *

Legs trembling to the point it struggled to heave his light load up the stairs, he hurdled down the bathroom door, a hand clasped over his mouth. He stumbled to his knees as the room immaculate, white room seemed to jerk right, ribbons of sliver forced itself out his searing throat, draping through the gaps in his fingers which glistened a diluted red in the bright rays. The trembling was no longer suppressible, for it bedevilled his body till even his breath shook into rapid choking as if the very hand of terror stuck its hand down his throat. The hacking wouldn't stop, the raven letting salt water escape his eyes at the thought of that burning sensation on his lips again. A numbing hand pushed the toilet lid open violently, bile bloodying those untouched lips as he felt his heart pound mercilessly against his ribcage, making his marrow seethe painfully in his aching bones.

It was as if his body was trying to regurgitate his entrails, stomach and diaphragm pushed up painfully against his lungs till it felt as though the flesh would crumble under the pressure. He squeezed his lids so tight that that tears were forced out his burning sockets, the toilet goring more of that bloody, lumpy grey pulp till it choked up discoloured splatters across the walls.

It sickened him as he reached weakly for the knife, only to crash in a sickly hiss on his knees at the mere shadow of the memory.

It sickened him that he couldn't keep his mask up at anything that even subtly related to that past abomination, as he finally cradled the gelid comfort in his hands- quaking fingers wrapped round its handle.

It sickened him how damaged he really was because of it, the prospect of how much pain and blood the debt collectors monstrous length could emit from his small body turned him on.

He hated it, he _loathed_ every cell of his body- glowering at the reflection in the mirror as if staring at a beast- a disease- the whole root of ugliness and contamination itself as he lifted his loose shirt.

It was that part of him that _man_ had left him served as a reminder of it all.

But he was too much of a coward to end it.

He looked at the pale of his throat to the tightness in his shorts, eyes clenching as he ignored that _revolting sin_ between his legs.

But he was took scared of the pain to take it away.

He let out a pathetic whimper at how his bulge constricted as he outlined the faint lines of his hip with the blunt of the knife, before turning the blade to make a deep line across soft white, supressing his moan as he saw _how much of his own red_ spilled his floors.

Blade having remained in the new cut, he twisted it violently, making a gaping hollow right by his bone. The friction against his pelvis cause his lips to shape a small 'o' as his eyes rolled in the backs of his head.

It sickened him- with every bruise have gave to his body; with every drip of red that thundered across the marble tiles; with every moan he let out as an abrasion dared his erogenous zones as he crumbled into a mewling, wet mess on the floor.

He let out another cry as he smashed his fist against his head, quivering legs bathing in the sticky warmth around them.

The informant forced another shaky smile on those dry lips. "Why did you have to remind me, _Shizu-chan?"_

About just how human the raven really was.

* * *

Come morning, the ex-bartender found himself groggily marching his way to that pervert-doctors door, a grimace set upon his face. Though he was delighted to be able to meet his headless friend again after so long, to see that goofy four eyes sent a dull wave across his tired body.

He didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

And the man figured he didn't disserve any.

But when he rounded up all the facts together, it made so much sense it was illogical, so his mind wouldn't settle until he knew the truth.

And who knew about the informant's past other than the doctor, doubting his sisters would being the conflicting siblings they were. Polar opposites with Shizuo and Kasuka.

If he had the similar families as the flea, would he have ended up astray and with as many as loose screws as the raven-haired man.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he set one question in his mind- heart pumping with a blend of both anticipation and the want to not hear the inevitable as he rapped his hand against the door.

 _Was Orihara Izaya raped by another man?_


	7. 7: Ghost Trail

A façade of a malicious grin creased his face, twisting a lock of jet back in his curious fingers. "Of course Namie-san, why ever would I want to trick my own _beloved_ secretary?"

A rather unlady-like snort echoed across the line. _"I don't even want to put a second thought into what goes on in that sick brain of yours."_

"So you gave it your first", the man let out an chitter from his growing smirk at the silence of the receivers side. Not allowing a heartbeat for the woman to reply, he lowered his voice. "Don't say it, you're saving that first though for Seiji and that unrequited incestial love for him. _Disgusting._ " He added a knife to the edge of every syllable, jutting it out on the tip of his acrid tongue.

Bitter both figuratively and literally.

He quickly pushed the thought aside, again, not patient enough to give time to rebuke his icy words. After all, he dealt with Namie's hailstorms enough to know where that would go. "Ah, but of course I love you all the same like any other human, don't you worry."

" _I'm not worried."_ A pause. _"Is this another whim of yours or is there a reason calling me to have a day off."_

The man laughed darkly, stretching his legs like that of a cat. "There is a reason to anything, no matter how trivial it may seem", he purred, "though most boss's will punish there _underlings_ for questioning their actions, being the kind man I truly am, I'll let you off."

The informant received another snort at this remark before he hung up, tossing his phone into a drawer behind him while shutting it with the heel of his foot. He sighed, the air taking his mask with it as he let his shoulders sag. The man's knuckles tightened till four black smiles were incised into his delicate palms.

Since when did this fallen deity feel so tired?

The man grimaced at the thought, forcing his stride into a skip as he made his way to his bedroom, gait stiff as if he could still feel-

His mind balked, he seemed to almost watch two pairs of arms reaching in the ebony cabinet to pull out a change of clothes till he realised that they were his own two arms, stupefied.

He nearly yanked the silver-laded handle of his bathroom door as he brushed down his own clothes, suddenly feeling rather feculent, abject- which was always patronising for a man which hygiene, a pristine upfront and status were his food, wine and oxygen. His head repeated the mantra, one he had not needed to use in the passing decade- but just who was he trying to convince?

 _I'm fine._ He nearly phased out again as hot water left the tap that in his hand, not recalling ever approaching the tub in the first place. _I'm fine- I'm always fine._

He had to be. _I'm Orihara Izaya. I'm a God of this beautiful world._

Stripping off hastily, he ignored the blatant, fresh hollows down his left side as he was tempted to just fall into the water as his current discernment. After the night of his display to the blond, never did he feel so bare- so exposed in his entire life.

But that was just another lie.

Grounding his teeth subconsciously, he fixed his now trembling jaw in a subtle smile as he dipped the tip of his foot into the water.

* * *

To the ex-bartender's disapproval, his dullahan friend was nowhere to be seen as his eyes rested on the white of a lab coat, standing out like an unwanted mole in the centre of the furnished room. Quite like the headless being, though Shizuo approached the doctor with apathy, he couldn't deny that this perturbing man was important to the deepest of his hearts- though now most of that space was taken by a new other.

"I'm surprised you didn't walk the door down", the bespectacled man let his arms dangle down the back of the sofa, head resting on the edge, "Oh wait, your _prey_ isn't in here is he?"

Before, the words would have sent him in an undulating wroth, eyes blind with red- but this time, it only sent a twist in his stomach, body almost swaying with nausea. The doctor registered the pallor of his face and frowned, eyes wide.

"You didn't did you?"

Shizuo felt his heart just stop- _he can't possible know…_

His knees almost buckled when the doctor's words resounded. "You didn't kill Izaya did you?"

The debt collector let out a breathy sigh as he flopped on the sofa, conscious of the weight of a pair of eyes scanning his unusually jaded attitude. Prostrated, the man let him. The blond was beyond reluctant to ask Shinra, but he had a duty to complete- a mistake to put right. And this time he didn't dare let it go. "Actually, I'm here to ask about him."

He rubbed his eyes under the lenses of his shades, imagining what bemused face was ridden upon the sicko's face. To his surprise he was wrong- _so dearly_ wrong.

* * *

It was scalding, as if the heat was shaving his skin with the blunt of its blade: just how he loved it.

The tire, the darkness, the maelstrom was all washed away the second the warmth spread his cool body, the frost in his veins thawing with a sore ting as he shuddered at the strengthening pulse in his chest. Though indeed burden was lifted, it still felt so heavy.

But there was one thing the bath didn't wash away.

The raven wiggled about, rubbing the insides of his legs as if trying to rid of the ever ending waste that poured out of him. His pace increased furiously as he could still feel his thighs laden with both cool and warm abrasive disgustingness. Nails digging into that soft skin, he whimpered as the ghost marks hovered above him- wet, white and red.

The man gagged as he felt more escape him, rubbing his nails frantically against his legs- ignorant of the deep indents he left in his perfect shape. The man was shaking, weeping, and it was clear to the eye he just wanted to lose it, throw it all away.

But he couldn't, because he was Orihara Izaya in the end of the day.

He wasn't allowed to let that go.

If people- if the everyday citizens of Ikebukuro- though they knew what anger meant when they saw the flash bartender suit and its owner march down the streets- those thoughts were callow- green as the wroth in those seething bespectacled eyes. Rarely had the monster of Tokyo ever felt the tightness in his lungs, and he realised as he stared as the towering figure- and he realised that was fear.

There was always something unsettling about the doctor- as if his being was bereft of some really important humanity inside of him- and Shizuo was now witnessing the shadows of this devil's deficit. If his body was that of a monster, the soul of Shinra's was that of a demon.

Beads rolled down the side of his face, not comprehending that it was sweat, as the glint of silver shone in the doctor's hand, shaking with anticipation as a wide smile possessed his face. "Do you need a mirror to know how pathetic you look, my dear _Shi-zu-o…_ "

Without hesitation, the blond shook his head, bleached locks in a frenzy.

"Did you know that this, syringe, contains enough to take out a dozen of elephants, though it would only put your monstrous body asleep for a few days…" His pupils dilated until the black dots seemed to get engulfed by his burning irises. "But who knows what _experiments_ I will run in that time frame?"

Before, when the doctor as a child always pestered him about cutting open his body, Shizuo always brushed it off with a cold shoulder, but now, he knew nothing more terrifying. He was a coward. He knew it. He knew it yet he despised himself for it. _Stronger…_ He looked up, lump only growing in his throat as he swallowed. _For Kasuka, for Celty, for even Shinra._ And of course.

 _For Izaya._

"Shin..ra…" He almost winced at the hoarseness of his own voice, nearly wondering if indeed it was his. He cleared his throat, seeing the shadow pause. "Please, if you don't want to answer, then don't. Just hear me out." It was then the man realised that if such a harmful statement received this reaction- the truth was more depraved than what even the most wilful minds could conceive.

He took the consternating silence as an opportunity to continue. "Was Izaya…."

 _Say it…_

"Was h-he…"

The man choked on the word, hearing the figure towering him sink to his knees. "Was he what?"

"Raped by a man." When he opened his eyes that he did not see were closed, he immediately wanted to go back in time- erase that one word he said. Because that hurt- the anguish in the man's eyes seemed unnatural, beyond daunting on the face of the smiling man.

The shaking of a head was supposed to bring relief, and for once the man wished he couldn't of been so much more wrong as folds of water escaped glistening eyes.

"No, not just _a_ man. Not…j-just one…."

* * *

A scream filled an apartment in Shinjuku, as the owner of that bewitching shrill that made even doors rattle in their frames, thrashed about in the pink tainted water. _Or was this all just some horrible nightmare?_

He wanted to stand up, run to his favourite knife that he loved for all the wrong reasons and test that out- but he feared that if he got up, he would crumble, so delicately. Nothing like the God he should have been. Nothing like the God he created. _They_ created.

As if worn to the marrow deep in his bones, his fingers slide down his sides, eyes unseeing the ugly pattern on his legs and the zest of skin that seemed to rain upon the water, clotting into glutinous pale clumps. His eyes drained of all life, his null body sinking nose deep into the warmth that entwines around his throat like a forgiving hand and he smiled.

And he kept smiling as that hand tightened, betraying him, because he had forgotten all about betrayal; pain; mirth; sorrow. He let the nothingness welcome him as his sight went white to the foam of small crests of rushing water disintegrate to steam, soap and fading a trail of fading bubbles.


	8. 8: Shallow waters

To say Shizuo's blood ran cold would be an understatement. He could feel his body crumble into a trembling mess of sorrow and fury at those very words which left the doctor's mouth.

Unaware of the figure tensing under his zealous gaze, he grabbed the man by his shoulders; the shudders passed between hand and body. "What do you mean…not just one man? What happened in the first placed? Why did this happen to him…"

There were so many questions, swarming like the red he saw in the crusts of his vision. But they were cut off by a gentle hand on his shoulder, the blond jumped under the unfamiliar tenderness in misted eyes. "I _can't_ ….I just-" The bespectacled man brought a hand to his mouth before letting out a whimper. "I'm sorry."

The man could only remain silent as he watched the creature grovel on his knees, before placing an alien expression on his face.

Never had Shizuo felt so small.

"Why do you ask?" The brunette pushed his glasses up a tear-stained nose. "Why would you go from believing in hate at first sight to looking in his past?" There was a darkness that underlined his eyes- one that gave off the same scent as the informant- like a shadow to those red iris's that spoke danger. "What happened between you and him, to obtain such…" A pause; the man shuddered. "Information."

At looking at the pale face to go that of a corpse, the doctor backed away onto the wall, eyes bulging like a squids. "You didn't…you coul-"

"NO!" A hand muffled the sobbing, a pair of hazel's wide with anticipation. "I mean…I may have gotton a bit close, but I didn't do anything like that…I just didn't know the flea would react…that way." His voice was ushered by the softening eyes. Shizuo mentally slapped himself at his own cowardice. _I couldn't tell him. I couldn't do my best to solve a problem because I wanted to defend myself._

"Ah."

The brunette slowly stood up.

"Well, you make it up to him."

The blond joined him.

"Because if he gets out of shape or does anything funny" The doctor turned his back, but the debt-collector could still feel the daggers of his glare. "The first one I deal with is you. _Remember that._ "

The blond watched the white lab coat disappear round the door, taking that as a signal to make his own exit. As he made his way down the stairs, he felt his hand instinctively reach for his pockets- snatching it away with his other. A deep frown oppressed his face.

 _Izaya first._ His knuckled clenched white. _Cigarettes later._

* * *

As soon as a door shutting resounded his ears, Shinra slumped across the sink- bent double like some pallid willow.

He had seen many injuries beforehand; he had even operated on his best _beloved_ and it phased him none; he had fixed faces who were just zests of skin hanging from their jaws to shards of bone sticking poking through layers of muscle and flesh like dead flies. _But…_ The doctor clammed his lids shut till he could feel an earthquake in his sockets.

 _He never wanted to see_ **that**.

He never really paid any attention to humans before- for they were tedious, dull beings compared to that of the dullahan. He made friends for the purpose of pleasing and earning any spec of love from her: just to see that _smile_ as many as times he could.

For he was, unlike her, a mortal being.

Though he always muttered sweet nothings behind her ears- that love is sempiternal, something that would breathe life to her in his place when he was gone.

But even a love-binded man like him could see the shadows that loomed behind those words.

And it was only when he walked in reality that he realised he had care for 'his friend'.

Its only when another man had opened him the candour of the past that why that friend had suddenly vanished for two weeks near the start of their junior high years worried him to his graves.

He never wanted to feel that ache- no that _plague_ that harrowed the chamber deep in his chest that that _friend_ made him realise he held for other beings aside the dullahan- as he saw the creature after what seemed a millennium of searching.

That shell of what once was a human.

Rebuilt into a God.

Forced into playing God.

' _For…'_ the doctor could remember the last words of the boy that smiled the honeycomb of spiring _'It's easier to value, to deal with, to forgive humans when you love them all. An unrequited, passive love is never spins out of your control.' It then dropped, a revolting mask was sown to his smile- his words their thread. 'And I shall burden that love, even if it means being their excuse for their hatred and bliss, even if it means playing the role of deity…for my new toys.'_

Shinra slumped further across counter, till his head met the cool of marble.

A sad smile crept across his lips.

"Since when did this dangerous thing all become a game?"

And that _thing_ played the strings on the bespectacled puppet for the rest of that day.

For he could still see the rack of trembling ribs spewing a lumpy mixture of red and salt white, through bruised lips. Like some tossed apple stomped on till its core was pushed through its soggy wound.

He could still see the blood that caked his thighs- black as cancer that seemed to ooze out in every step he took.

The doctor emptied out his contents, if anything could distract him from what had left the dolls lips- eyes that seemed so blank, so empty that he could see the crying wretch that was tucked inside it.

"How…" Shinra recalled his own; that disgusting, gas mask suddenly seeming all very comforting, as he wept. And shuddered- the thought that his loved was not here to witness his vulnerable state his remaining solace as he filled a glass of water.

It was still half empty.

* * *

The spacious rooms seemed to grow further away from the blond, glare white and omniscient as if Shizuo's very existence was a taboo on some sort of sacred soils.

Of course, that was all ridicule: he was just a monster. There _was_ no other way of looking at it.

A monster who destroyed what he laid his hands on.

He was always causing trouble for others- Tom-san, Celty, Shinra, Kasuka- always hurting them. And maybe for by this once dealing with the problem he cause, he would somehow be forgiven. Have the burden taken of his shoulder.

 _How did such as self-serving person like me disserve such nice friends?_

As placing a hand on the door, he swallowed the lump in his throat- heart thundering in his ears as it slowly the sound of wood brushing carpet whispered across the walls.

Then the unease.

Then the silence.

As he walked in there was no annoying chirp; no lunge from that swarmy arse. The debt-collector almost begged to hear a snarky remark from the contents of the kitchen or perhaps behind the screen of a lavish computer.

 **But nothing happened.**

The only remnant of someone's presence was the scent of strawberries- that the flea's hair seemed to smell so strongly of. The scent which he thought diseased the whole of Ikebukuro but came to love.

Feeling transparent in the informant's home- large space now seeming just _plain lonely_ \- he followed the scent that seemed so familiar yet so foreign these past eight years, through an oversized bedroom and stopping at a glass door- frosted panes perturbing his reflection into a mess of white, black and yellow.

A grimace pinched at the corners of his lips as he felt the floor beneath him give out to a sloppy, adherent sounds as if puking lukewarm water out each strand of silk.

 _Wait-_ He pressed his ears as far as it could go to the door, rapping the back of his hand gently.

"Izaya?"

Again.

"IZAYA-kuunnn…"

The only reply was the fall of water.

* * *

Shizuo, uncaring of the burning feeling that climaxed against his shins like a thousand knives searing his skin, he tranced the barricade down- solid tears of crystal raining purple specs of light across the moist walls. He would have missed the figure through the coat of steam if not for his animalistic senses. The man could feel time stop all together as he saw an unmoving log rise up in the pink tainted waters.

There was no thought put behind when he yanked the limp figure out the water, nearly collapsing under his pull at his haste; neither was there any reaction to the scorching feeling that inflamed his tanned skin as he held the informant in his arms.

He shook the body. _He's too light._ "I-Izaya?"

 _Just who was he asking?_

He placed his head upon the chest, eyes widening.

He didn't even realise his actions as he placed the raven on the floor, hand pumping air in him- breathing into those cold lips as if he could give his whole life through this solitary action. He just watched that radiant face for a flutter of eyelashes or for a faint choke of water to spill from his mouth.

 **But nothing happened.**

"Izaya…" He tried- tried till he ended up emptying his own tears into the body that poured from the corners of his eyes. "Please…" Because anything. "Izaya…don't you die before I kill you-" Anything. Any sign. "Izaya…" Any cold remark or wittering anger. "Wake up fucking louse!" Was better than this.

Pupils unmoving from the spot where the raven's head once lay, he brought it to his chest- bereft of voice and emotion.

 **And something happened.**

A breath; a cough of cold liquid splattered his neck but the blond didn't care. He could almost feel his heart split at the echo of a silky voice in his ears. "To what pleasure do I owe Shizu-chan's tears?"

And split it did, everything: the worry, the joy, the pain and the anger all pouring out at once- so overwhelming that he did not see the naked shock that filled the informants face in place of his mask.

 **But nothing changed.**


	9. 9: Unlock him

There were no other words that sounded as foreign as the words that seemed to pour out the blond from deep in his chest, as strong arms enveloped him.

 **I'm sorry.**

Even when the blond knew that the raven was shaking upon the realisation that a man was hugging his own naked body, he only hugged tighter.

 **I'm sorry.**

The informant then distracted his fear with vehemence- ire welling deep in his throat at the idea of the purpose of his mask being ripped away. That ten years or effort to protect himself, the fabrics of the want to be loved or to be accepted all ripped away as only when did he rid of it, did he get what he wanted. He focused on the anger if that was what would save his pride.

"Get off, _beast…_ "

 **Then why…**

He let out a strained laugh as he felt the blond tense around him, pushing him away for white stare to meet manical white stare.

"Tell me when I asked for your pity, _no,_ when did I decide I even wanted _it._ "

… **.did it…**

He felt those arms leave him after helping him up, watching those braid shoulders turn away with a guilty smile.

… **hurt so much to be left alone?**

He was sure his former mask wold have cracked up at the scene he displayed as a small hand pulled on the sleeve of a shirt- head wilting into his neck under the surprise of the debt-collector. Cocking his head to the side, he almost slapped himself at what followed.

"Don't leave me…"

He let go off the sleeve, bringing a stiff hand to his mouth as he met a pair of softening hazels.

* * *

Shizuo ate down the swelling feeling in his chest at those words, suppressing his shock behind blue shades. He was tempted to swing his arms round that perfect waist when he realised the state that the raven is in. Hiding his flush, he whipped around, ripping his jacket of and throwing it behind him. "I…errrmm…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to come in…I just…" he paused. _Besides, Izaya doesn't even feel that way about me._ The blond let out a low sigh. "I just wanted to say sorry."

He could have sworn he hears a near silent gasp resonate against the pristine walls, but it was soon cut off with s snort.

"Shizu-chan…" He hissed as he felt the stinging sensation of nails catch his lobe. "Your ears are red."

The blonde's head whipped around and the man regretted it as much as he didn't. The jacket only emphasised his small frame, barely covering up the areas that shot fire down to his groin. It draped ridiculously over his waist, making the gap between his thighs only more defined. It sent the blond over the edge, only one thing stopping him.

It must have been one of the saddest faces the man had pulled as the informant mirrored his expression. "What did you do- to your…" The blond met his eyes. "legs?"

And then the shaking.

It was a painstaking sight to see if you knew of his usual Go-like demeanour. And what were words when they were just as useful as scraps of paper which flooded out his mouth. Eyes narrowing, brows furrowed, he pulled the flea into a tight embrace if that was the least he could do. And he was right: the raven halted in shaking.

Shizuo could have sworn he heard the man sniffle. "I'm cold."

"Fucking ador-" The debt-collector though better of it, pushing the figure away, letting out a light laugh at the annoyance that the man failed to repress. "Well, I'm warm."

The informant slapped the blonde's arms away in a manner so feminine that if he didn't know any better, Shizuo would have coined him Ikebukuro's cutest _girl._ "No!" The raven pouted, trampling on the glass shards in the entrance. "I'm getting clothes."

* * *

Izaya let out a girly squeal as he felt himself being swung over broad shoulders. _Where the hell did your testosterone disappear to?_ He mentally slapped himself at the thought as he felt a low laugh resound his ears- and he wasn't going to admit how soothing it sounded as his muscles laxed.

"There's glass everywhere flea- it's dangerous."

Another snort. "And which monster's fault do you think that is?"

"Mine."

"Ha!" The informant threw a pair of arms into the air. "I'll send the bill to your house, sometime this week- _no,_ sometime today."

He felt himself being tossed into a sprawl of limbs, his black duvet catching him as he felt the silky material being hiked up his legs. Seeing the blond once more turn pink, he flashed a seductive grin.

He held in his mirth through pursed lips as the hulk turned his back, voice muttering "How much?"

"About 1,000,00-"

"Too many fucking digits!" He could hear a roar from behind a shut door. "Get changed while I think of how to repay you."

 _Think…Of how…Too…_ The informant brushed the thought aside as he heaved his suddenly heavy body up, hands delving into the confinements of his wardrobe, a last chirp leaving his ghost of a simper. "The only payment I except is in money!"

This time he didn't hold back the laugh as he a thump of a fist echoed down his walls.

 _Maybe having this monster's presence beside me isn't so bad…_

Izaya later would kill his past self on even nearing that ridiculous idea that crept in the back of his mind.

* * *

Shizuo's head shot up as the informant made his way down the glass stairs in his usual attire, halting in pacing around the room at the familiar laugh. Though he couldn't deny he disliked it, he likes it a lot more than the raven's previous display of emotion.

"You know Shizuo- there are two spacious sofa's waiting to be sat on. You do know…that it is what they are used for I hope?"

The blond decided to ignore the snarky remark and leaned against the wall, eyes watching the raven sit idly to his side, cocking his chin upwards to face the debt-collector through the corners of angular eyes. "And so…what was this method of repayment that you speak with such _zeal_ of?"

The blond gave a goofy grin. "I'm going to stay with you for a week."

"Wha-" The raven deadpanned. "I didn't think I needed to remind a debt collector that when paying his own debts, he's supposed to please the one he's paying- not himself."

The way the raven cocked a fine brow in a perfect arch over those hued eyes- defined by the jet black of his lashes and pallor of his skin; the way when even unkept, those locks never lost their satin. He decided.

"I mean I'm in your service for a whole week."

That he would unlock the raven's heart- and see the beautiful chaos that laid within it.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S APOLOGIES.**

I know i'm not great at writing happiness but this is just the start of development.

Please comment for any improvements or ideas that's you would think will give the story...well, a bit more life.


	10. 10: staccato

The informant swallowed his ire with a crooked smile, though that didn't prevent leaving and acrid aftertaste on his tongue. He decided to push away the prickling sensation away with a shrug of his shoulders, licking his lips as he cocked his head onto the back of his couch.

"Shizu-chan…I'm hungry…"

"Then eat."

The informant pouted at the back of the debt-collector, sleeves rolled up and kneeling against the wall. To the raven's surprise, the beast was a lot more docile than that other _wench_ , though he had to admit- watching Shizuo made him realise just how deft and useful Namie really was. But he wasn't about to admit that. Not yet. Besides, it brought gaiety to watch the enslaved animal struggle in paying his own debts. _How ironic._

His mouth scrunched up in what appeared to be an attempt to conceal his smirk. "Can't Shizu-chan cook me something?"

The blond shot a glare over his shoulder. "Since when did I offer to babysit you? I just said I was taking over that _poor_ woman's job for a we-"

Izaya's smile spread from ear to ear.

"Don't tell me you make her do the cooking as well?"

As if Shizuo had not spoken at all, the informant childishly pointed at the wall. "Work."

"Who the fucks not doing any work today?"

"I'm thinking, _planning-_ an important job for an informant" He tossed a lock of black over his head. "Not that your neathanded brai-"

"Fucking fine" The informant let out a chuckle as he threw his hand above him, waving his head. "Yay! I finally get Shizu-chan to cook for me! Though I think he needs a bit of help cleaning those walls as he had made zero progress. Though I guess that's a lot for a single cell-"

"Just shut up with your chirping…" The blond lowered his voice, and if the raven did not have such acute hearing, he would have thought that he had rendered the man silence all together. "If anyone needs help, it's you."

He hated it: the ridiculous show he played _oh so nicely_ for Shizuo last night- and he hated how the monster didn't end it right there and then- _no, chose to hug him-_ in his weakest moments. He hated how the blonde's presence remained as a constant reminder for how easily his mask broke- and of what had forced him to make the mask in the first place.

He felt his body give up an involuntary shudder as he could feel his stomach seethe. _No, not here- not now. Not while I'm with_ him _._

Releasing a sigh, he let the weight of his head sink into his hands, mind wandering today- as it oft did. He had seen his human's play this scene before: seen the sorrys, the tears, the emotion- and had laughed at it. Claiming how they were all so 'cute' and 'adorable' and 'care-free' to be able to act that way. Izaya knew he was a jealous, and greedy man- but he wasn't accepting enough to put him on the same level on his humans.

 _No, because he was lower._

 _He was filth._

He neither had the heart to admit or the strength for denial, so he just passed by- as if it was just another wave crashing upon this lone pebble in a vast beach. Neither did that pebble move- nor did it go back. It just remained there- stubborn and cold with grey malice as it slowly wared away.

But ware away it did.

* * *

The flash of glasses and the silk of chocolate plaits twirled round the corridors, dancing on her footsteps like some fairy from a midnight dream. She pouted, brunette eyes shining with impatience. "Hurry up Kururi!" She stomped her slender legs impatiently as she placed a mellow-dramatic arm upon her breast. "Hanejima-san is awaiting for our presence and we can't make him w… Just find any coat!" She flicked the shorter girl lightly in the head. "Any coat will do."

When her sister made no reply, Marui narrowed her eyes. "Unless you are trying to look your best for Hanejima-san, then take all the time in the world…Ah." She placed a slender finger in the air, as if swirling all those delightful _pheromones_ into sheer sun-kissed bliss. "But not all the time because we have to see him of course."

"Marui, quiet." Was all the brunette, sporting ear length hair, replied.

"Now now." She skipped childishly along the wooden floor boards, stopping by the doorway in which her sister stood in- beneath an oak staircase. "We all know that's your jo-oof."

Squinting, Marui rubbed her nose where it collided into the back of her sister head. "Watch where y-" her gazed moved to where the girl pointed her finger before looking up.

"It…fell…" The voice barely heard.

The said girl shuffled away so the taller one could inspect the gap in dust on the roof of the case- squared and out of place like a line of yellow paint in a canvas of murky grey. Marui shrivelled her small nose out of rebuke. "Mother better clean this place properly…" She leaned down to latch her fingers onto the wooden box- sealed with layers of duct tape. She gave it a sturdy yank before exhausting a sigh.

"Who the hell taped it up so much in the first place."

Completely, forgotten of their primary purpose, the two girls fought to open the damned thing- with nails, teeth and by simply throwing it violently at the wall tilt the wood and tape eventually gave way into a sticky mess of debris and sawdust. Out spilled an envelope in which her sister kneeled down to, but Marui had her eyes coined on something else.

A flash of silver.

She followed the rolling trail, stopping in between her toes as she lifted the object to her face, squinting at the scripting engraved on the inside of the cylinder.

"A ring?" She pushed up her glassed on the bridge of her nose, twisting her head around the bend in light. "Akashi…O?"

She gazed at the familiar glint of silver, though this one seemed more rusted- colder _._

She turned around to the squatted figure. "Hey Kururi- doesn't it look like that creepy stuff Iza-nii would wear?" She crept closer to the figure, wrapping an arm around the tense shoulder. "Maybe our brother might _actually_ have a friend…."

Shaking.

"Kururi?"

She then saw the face of a shocked corpse ridden on her sister's face, daring to peer down at the envelopes contents- the printed red smouldering like hot iron into the backs of her lids. A lous screech filled the house and footsteps rushed to the hallway.

A woman, in her late forties placed a worried look upon her face, till it dropped.

"Mother?" The twins backed away.

There was always something pothering about the Orihara household. Starting with their parents. Even from the outside you could sense something off about them, something that was missing from their efforts in keeping up a 'perfect family' image. And Kururi could see it before her eyes.

The mother stepped forward, pan in hand and eyes unnerving.

"You saw it, _didn't you."_

Then silence.

* * *

"So first, he makes me do his _fucking_ cooking… and now his shopping" he could feel the plastic tear under his vice grip, cursing as losing a trail of items down the streets of Shinjuku. "Fucking louse."

But no one dared laugh, no one dared question the man in the bartender's suit his sanity- not if they valued their life.

"What am I? His fucking maid?" Another growl from smoke stained lips sent all forms of life scrurrying away from him. "Why am I doing this in the first place?"

But then he remembered: the naked fear; the shell of a being and the doctor's words- and that's all it took for the beast to remain docile as he made his way to the lengthy stairs of high rise flats that lead to the raven's door.

 _Stubborn flea._ He was about to open the door when his hand paused on the handle as he pressed his ears against the door. _Music?_ Now letting the food fall forgotten by his sides- he pressed his figure as far as he could in the wood without it braking, eyes wide. _A violin?_

The blond pushed the door open, a light smile tugging on his lips. _It sounded beautiful._


	11. 11: Sunlight Sonata

The informant obviously didn't hear the debt-collector walk in, for he only seemed to lose himself further into the strings he worked like a cat its claws and tail- as if his sixth sense.

And _God,_ did it sound breath-taking as the sight bestowed upon him.

Since as far into the past as the man could remember, Shizuo never liked classical music- holding near to no appreciation for its art- but never had he heard, _no_ seen, anyone pour so much emotion into the gaps between the blacks of ink notes. If you could give music a colour, the blond would have given it a doleful blue, each long note bleeding fuchsia into the radiating melody that harmonised like the elucidation of enchanting desolation itself.

If the song sweet in the blonde's ears was a gift from God himself, then the man playing it was an angel.

He couldn't help blood rush to his face as he felt the pounding hasten in his ears because the sight was so…beautiful. The shine of tears streaks on the raven's face serene like a dream and his figure aglow like some Irish myth. Shizuo raised a hand that cupped the slender frame in his vision- and within those twining fingers it hit him.

Izaya looked untouchable. _So lonely._

The man ate down the bitter-sweet taste in his mouth as he cleared his throat. "You look so goddam mystical I almost mistook you for some messenger from the heavens, telling me I had finally been freed from this stinking world."

As the wry smirk from the blonde's face dissolved, the informant reacted in a way the blond could have never expected. He turned his head gracefully, new leaks springing from his eyes like dew drops from frost bitten roses- tracing out his jawline as gently as a lovers hand. No mask; no revolting smirk; no snarky comment. Just a delicate voice and soft lips which smiled the _honeycomb of spring._ "I don't believe in the afterlife, Shizuo."

He had called him by his name.

Shizuo.

The debt collector felt his heart constrict till it would have torn into a million petals if not for the firm hand gripping his chest.

 _Where was the flea he once knew?_

Then a wave of despondency hit him.

 _Did the man he thought existed for eight years ever exist in the first place?_

* * *

Shinra felt his chest tear to shreds as the state of the two twins when they walked into his apartment, head hung low and eyes bloodshot, their lids puffed up a raw pink.

And he felt the world spin around him when he saw the now crumpled envelop being placed on the coffee table by trembling knees.

He knotted his hands with the fabric of his trousers, watching the two girls nearly fall onto the opposing sofa in silence.

The doctor could barely watch as a small scrap of yellowing paper was pushed towards him, wrinkles cutting up inked runes like cracks in parched soil.

Sixteen tally marks, the initials Akakshi O and the _17_ _th_ written companioned by a question mark.

Only when it seemed a whole life time had passed did he have the nerve to meet glassy eyes, trying to ignore small cuts and repugnant bruises tat decorated their fine bodies.

The smaller of the two rested her head on her sister, who placed a comforting hand upon her head. "It hurts Marui."

Shinra winced.

"When will it stop hurting?"

Bespectacled eyes averted themselves as fingers pushed them up the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry."

The elder of the two shook her head, placing a soft butterfly kiss on her forehead. "It's nothing to do with you", she lowered her eyes, "But if you could help us in anyway, as Iza-nii's only friend, can you explain this to us?"

 _How do they know it has anything to do with their brother?_ The doctor narrowed his eyes, inspecting their expressions over the rim of lenses. But when he saw the black donning their legs like the spill of paint on a tainted canvas, the man lost all desire in pressing to question the pair further. He gave an inward sigh. _At least no fractures or sprains by the looks of it._ He lifted his chin. "It's not something I completely know of myself, nor understand…"

 **A lie.**

"Those numbers…" He shook his head slowly. "All I know is that your brother went through a lot of pain during the nine years before you were born."

 **An understatement.**

"And for the next few years after…" Throwing away the attempt to hide his tire all together, the man lowered his voice. "Just so much happened I don't know anymore."

 **The truth.**

He could feel Marui shift uncomfortably as she pushed the envelope under his nose, making him shrink back further into the leather.

Because he knew what laid hidden within there for the past ten years.

"Why?" Beads of liquid diamond crumbled down her face as she held her sister closer. "Who would do this to anyone? Which _poor_ soul…" she choked, chin now soaked in water. "…could have lived with _this_?"

Those words stung.

For all the wrong reasons.

"A monster…" It barely resonated out of his throat.

Marui wiped the coarse of her sleeve under her eye, carving out a red mark on her left cheek. "What?"

The doctor's smile dropped. "A monster."

He preferred seeing the fear and consternation well up in their eyes rather than what could have been something so dire…it couldn't have been placed into words. He hadn't the strength to say it- not when they looked so _painfully_ similar to him- that those pictures of limbs disfigured beyond the point of calling it human, and those words plastered across asylum walls in the owner's blood was their brother.

But most of all, he couldn't bare the aftermath in telling them that this Akashi Orihara was the one who broke him, and their father.

* * *

Shinra Kishitana had been kind enough to tend to their wounds and lend them a place to stay for the night when the two were on the verge of begging down on their knees, only prevented by a rushed pat on their aching heads. Marui was surprised that the doctor didn't question their actions, but she was too conflicted to give his actions a second thought.

Her 'mother's' words still haunted her- like curses imprinted on the backs of her lids that materialised when she tried to shut her eyes for a wink of rest.

An image of the bespectacled man floated into view, her frown deepening. _"Make sure you tell me as much as you can. Do you realise the danger you're in?"_

Hauling herself to her side, she focused on a break in the straw matting, the sound of her twin deep in slumber her living repose as the event denied to stop replaying in her head.

As she recalled the way her hands constricted around the handle of a pan, she would have broken into another fit of tears, but she had none left to waste.

" _We never wanted anything to do with that sickening family- and what_ _ **he**_ _took from us…_ "

The way those once loving eyes went white with craze.

" _So three years later- when it all ended- we offered your brother to him and a man in white…oh…It hurt so much to see your brother's face for those years. I couldn't have remembered a happier moment when we gave him away."_

Marui clenched her eyes shut.

"… _because he was a splitting image of_ _ **him, that man…"**_

" _Those blood eyes…"_

" _That perfect face…"_

" _His flawless voice…"_

" _It was too much to burden."_

But it was what left her mouth next that would scar the girl for as long as she sees night melt into day, turn after turn.

That when they returned their brother, if he ever did truly come back, they had _"turned us into sinners. Don't you ever call us your parents again. And never ask me who your real ones are."_

Face to the pillow, Marui let out a muffled whimper as her grip around her own cold body tightened. "Why?..." Her back arched as if to guard her face beneath her. "What did we do to disserve this?"

* * *

 ***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

I seriously need to learn how to write properly, since my technique seems to be lacking...I dunno... -_-

But those who spotted the second mention of _honeycomb of spring_ , well done.

People actually pay attention to my writing. ^_^


	12. 12: You're Just Trash

***AUTHORS NOTE***

 **I understand that my flow of writing can be hard to…follow, but it's that way for a reason. And hopefully by the end of the story, all the loose ends shall tie together! (Well, that's what I'm aiming for anyway…)**

 **So, just to clear a misunderstanding:**

 **Guest 2-** _ **'So Izaya was in a mental asylum? Is Akashi their mother?...'**_ **As for the second question, if my sentence structure was a little confusing, I apologise but I'm sure I put father in chapter 11. So, yes. Akashi O is their** _ **real**_ **father.**

 **As for the rest of your questions…you're just going to have to wait and see.**

* * *

It shattered- its limpid skeleton raining glass from red slick fingers. A face rolled into trembling shoulders- arched over trembling legs like a rootless willow.

A hand reached her shoulder. "Kyouko…" Her head snapped up.

She ushered the anxious sheen in the man's eye with a weak smile, placing the palm in the hand offered to her.

"Did Marui and Kururi really disserve that?"

Instinctively, she let the hand go, warmth flooding her fingertips in ribbons of red as she felt her knees buckle under her- cool marble greeting the side of her head with a callous crack. _No…_ She let her body slump as if the gelid sucked all energy out of her. _They didn't._ All strength abandoned her wan being as her eyelids draped shut. _But neither did he…_

Slender fingers tightened around the first shard that met her palm with a cool graze, her voice hoarse. "How could you do _that_ to your own son?" Tears flooded her eyes as she yanked a sleeve up, wincing at the fresh cuts along the tender flesh sending fire up her bones. "How…How…." She brought the glass to her wrist, before a firm, but gentle hand stopped her- her lips halting with the words barely rolling off her lips. " _How…_ "

The man's eyes softened. "It's okay. You can stop now."

"BUT IT'S NOT!" She ignored the crackling of vertebrae against bone as her spine shot up, a cold weight burning in her chest like artic fire. "It's not okay. What we did, what they did. It's never going to be okay."

Kyouko let out a gasp as she felt a strong hold pull her head to the comfort of broad shoulders, smiling into the fabric now warm with her tears as she felt her rigid posture just crumble.

And brake.

"Akashi…" The man cleared his throat as he felt the body tense against his own. "He, wasn't the only one who…did…" That word. "who filled…" That thought. "who did the deed to him- though we still don't know that he was the one who ordered his subordinates to do so as well…"

Kyouko hauled at his sleeve, brimming eyes pressed against his face as desperate fingers grappled on his collar- clenching into a fist at her own frailty as the silk just kept escaping her fingers. "Shirou. His own son- not just another relative but his _own son…_ " She lowered her voice as she saw pain swamp her husband's eyes. "If we had a son, do you think we would be able to do that?"

"No."

 _Never._

A wry smile materialised on her lips.

"Shirou?"

"Hm."

"I can't do this anymore."

"But what about our two nieces- they're too young to fend for themselves."

Her grip tightened.

"I'm sorry….I just can't…." Her voice broke into a loud sobbing as she bared the pan over her shoulder one last glance. _What have we done?_

* * *

 _The sun._

 _A beautiful being cast in God's light as if he was the gift from the heavens himself. A sultry voice matched with a divine face and a body- with the form that in itself was the symbol of seduction._

 _ **But he was merely another human.**_

 _Golden rays gilded his untouched skin, making a curtain of lashes leave a long spiral of elegant shadows on his pinched cheeks. The boy dozed into warm slumber._

 _But something felt wrong._

 _He dared sneak a closed lid open, only to witness the subtle waving of undisturbed lemon grass and fallen blossoms hurling round him in a torpedo. And the swelling, longing heat._

 _His eyes fluttered shut till he felt toxins wrap round him mouth violently- a grimy arm constricting round, wet like a snake. His nostrils flared in rebellion as cloth was wound around his eyes till he gave into the strength. Lithe legs stopped flailing as he was keeled over like a dead fish._

* * *

 _The next thing his eyes met was the darkness._

 _The dull light._

 _The low laughter of bustling men._

 _The half-decaying crates that towered over him like spines of a cage- a swan in game of famished, deprived bears._

 _He stifled the shudder that was forced down his back like a thousand maggots wriggling through his bone marrow._

 _ **He knew where this scene ended.**_

 _A scream was ripped from the roots deep in his chest as a hand secured around his small ankles, scurrying on his palms and knees in desperation. Rebuking the chortle with a defiant snarl, he felt the bone give way as he twisted his leg out of reach- mauling down on his hands to filter out his voice. Bite marks pressed deep into his skin, his hands lost all sense as he blundered away- collapsing over the numb bricks as fire shot up his elbows._

 _And then a finger snaked round his belt._

 _His heart stopped. From hand to grappling elbows to grappling chin- his attempt to escape- to go anywhere except here fell short in a heated panic. Slashing of his clothes; bruises were painted across the canvas of his body as both his knees let out to a sickly crack- shards of broken cap juttering out his skin like dead maggots. He felt him forced over the edge of a crate, cool air meeting his bare backside._

 _And the realisation broke to him._

 _He thrashed his dangling legs, only to hiss as the ends draped from his thighs dangled like the limbs of a shoddy puppet. The anguish in having his limbs hang from him like racks of meat was starting to become oppressive._

 _But showing his pain would be like feeding the devil himself with his candy._

 _And he had too much pride to do that._

 _But all thought was obliterated when he felt a force spear his entire entrails into ribbons, red gushing out from the shredded entrance- a fine split running up his back. He shrieked as it was impaled further in, carving out more space in his tearing insides as his body let out a series of spasms around the length._

 _ **It hurts.**_

 _The way his blood lubricated each thrust sent his stomach at his throat- touch embroiling as it scraped the rips in his internal lining- wrenching them wider._

 _ **It really hurts.**_

 _What was humiliation when it felt as if a beast's hands had forced itself inside you and began slowly ripping you in two numb halves?_

 _ **No way was it just humiliation anymore.**_

 _Each thrust detonated his pride, his sorrow, his fear till all though was emptied out of him and what was left was the anguish. The excruciation became unbearable. Another keening sound was guttered out of him as he felt his hips give out against the crates- splintering bone gorged deep into his belly. Tears fell out of his eyes as if the pure force had rendered his lids useless. They just poured- and rippled- unstopping as his shrills became choked on the salt flavour._

" _Please…just kill me."_

 _His own words seemed to poison him, barely holding onto the strings that made him aware of his fading existence as his mind went round in aimless circles._

 _Then the roar behind him._

 _The man buried his sheath deep inside the small rag- forced crimson cutting off his holler as blood decorated his lips. He knew when the spasm stopped that his muscles were destroyed beyond repair- sliding down his sides like slippery eels. Just the pure feeling of the man's seed flooding a tormenting warmth into his internal wounds sent bile flooding his mouth from deep in his chest. He kept wretching till there was no waste left inside of him, and began puking out his own blood as if the man had pushed all his entrails up to his throat as he pulled out._

 _Crumbs of lumpy flesh surged out the hole between his legs- chizzled brutally open._

 _The pain was the only thing that reminded him that he was still alive._

" _Just…Kill me…" Another cough sent a seizure in his lungs as more blood splattered the walls. "Kill me now…"_

 _ **But it didn't stop there.**_

 _And he was forced over the edge yet he was forced back up. As each enter had him in a howling mess until he could feel the forced flesh threaten to protrude through a new entrance in his front. Each time one came had him vomiting up blood, cum and tendrils of his own flesh that had been wrested from his organs._

 _You could not call it insanity._

 _It was something far beyond that- the puking; eyes bulged like squids. The screaming became that couldn't be put into words- an animalistic sound? It was a sound that would have scarred and haunted any being. But those behind him were not beings._

 _They were monsters._

 _Beasts._

 _ **Demons.**_

 _And then the devil himself loomed over him- hand on constricted buckle as more tears were yanked out from his swollen eyes. "Fa..ther?"_

* * *

A scream rattled the marrows in Shizuo's bones- the pure sound of it sending his heart up his throat. He balked.

 _Izaya?_

Pans, food, glass all left forgotten as he bolted through the door.

The man froze.


End file.
